Being and Becoming
by BeccaRamsey
Summary: Diana earns her copy of the Alter Ego Handbook...with a little help from Bruce. Follows on "The Princess and the Pea" and "A Decent Proposal." Third in a series. (BM/WW; originally written and published, 2009).


**Author's Note:** Thanks to Bnjammin, Will, and Alli for their beta services. Any errors you find now are my own fault. =) 

"Life is not a having and a getting, but a being and becoming."  
- Myrna Loy, borrowing from Matthew Arnold

* * *

From down the corridor, Diana could hear the rustle of garments, the padding of bare feet and the occasional grunt or shout, usually followed by a _thump_. She could visualize Bruce and Dick sparring, both clad in their uniforms. It seemed almost an even match: Dick, lighter and more agile, versus Bruce, bulkier, but stronger and more practiced.

She reached her destination and paused in the doorframe. As imagined, Bruce and Dick stood in the center of the dojo, hands up in a relaxed guarding stance. Both were clad in their white uniforms, black strips of reinforced cloth tied at the waist; the belts differed only in the gold-stitched Japanese characters that graced the lengths, signifying their name and their instructor.

Bruce, she noted, stood stock-still. His mass rested evenly between his front foot and his back, hips straightened to focus his center of gravity. Opposite him, Dick adopted a similar stance, save that his back heel was raised slightly, offering a bit of leverage and the ability to move quickly if the need arose. Bruce leveled his gaze at Dick's hands, exclaiming in a guttural tone, "Hai!"

"Hai!" Dick echoed and instantly went into motion. He served up a lunge punch aimed at Bruce's broad chest that Bruce easily sidestepped. In almost the same instant, however, Bruce's left hand flew upward, deflecting the blow with a block, striking with the inside forearm. He then twisted his hand, grabbing hold of the loose material of Dick's sleeve. Jerking the younger man forward, he pushed off with his back foot; his elbow came up and connected sharply with his target – the sternum. Though he had not struck with all of his force, Dick gasped and reeled with the blow.

To finish off the combination Bruce swept upward with his foot, knocking Dick's front foot out from under him. He came immediately off his feet and, with one, fluid downward push, Dick was on the ground. Bruce followed the takedown with a jab to the ribs.

At that moment, Diana knew Dick was glad of the padded floor.

Groaning, the younger man rolled onto his back. Bruce stepped away, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ungh," Dick said as they straightened from a bow. "I hate it when you do that. You're _supposed_ to pull your punches."

The grin widened. "_They're_ not going to pull any punches out _there_." He offered his hand down to his friend and adopted son.

Grayson took it, rolling up to his feet. "Yeah, but out _there_, I'll be wearing body armor and padding." He winced, rubbing the point of contact on his sternum. "Anyone ever tell you that you have bony elbows?"

"Not lately."

"Yeah, well, ya do."

Diana laughed, arching a brow. "Am I interrupting something?"

Both men blinked and looked toward the door. Grayson was the first to react. "Nah. Just Bruce kicking my ass," he replied and gave a rueful smile. "I'm thankful for the interruption."

"Glad I could help." Her eyes drifted over the room, taking in the faux paper walls and mounted martial arts weapons. Samurai armor and accoutrements decorated a far corner, a roll of parchment suspended above it, text written in the Japanese style. "Nice playroom."

"I can't do all my training on the Tower," Bruce said. He bowed to Dick, then crossed to a low table and retrieved his waiting towel, wiping it across his brow and neck.

"The dojo's the one thing he keeps up here," Dick explained. "Everything else is down in the dungeon."

Diana furrowed her brow. "The dungeon?"

"The cave."

She nodded, recalling the better part of her Saturday. She and Bruce had spent hours in the cave's training area, their sparring not unlike their relationship - a continual tug of war. Diana _could_ finish him with one blow, but what was the point? She was learning to fight like a non-meta and knocking him out with the first punch wasn't necessarily normal. Nor was it very sporting, she thought. Thus, she had learned quickly to moderate her strength, making Bruce an even match.

"Did you finish giving Alfred your information?" Bruce slung the towel around his neck.

"I did. In the meantime, I thought it might be a good idea if I put in an appearance on the Watchtower."

Bruce grimaced. "Yes, I suppose it is." He paused. "I'll get the Wayne Enterprises rumor mill started. What you decide to tell Clark –"

"Is my own decision," Diana finished for him. She watched as he nodded, accepting her answer. "Given what he knows about you, it's only a matter of time before he figures out what we're up to."

"He's going to tell you I'm the type of guy your mother warned you about."

The princess couldn't miss the mischievous gleam that lit his eyes, belying his stony expression. Still, his voice carried the import of his words. "My mother warned me about _all_ men," she said. "Given her past experience, I'm learning that Mother doesn't always know best."

"Not learning from her mistakes?"

"_I'm_ not making a mistake."

As she watched, his expression twisted into what she could only classify as the playboy leer. She wasn't surprised when his tone lightened slightly, slipping into his public role. "Then I take it we're still on for dinner?"

"But of course, Mister Wayne." Diana fluttered her lashes in an impression of the society girls she had seen at the fundraiser. She then allowed her own voice to drop an octave, taking on a husky tone as she added, "I wouldn't miss it."

His eyes widened in surprise and she knew she caught him off guard. Laughing, she turned to exit the room, tossing a goodbye over her shoulder to both Bruce and Dick. As she moved down the hall, she overheard a laugh from Grayson.

"What?" the coarse baritone asked.

"You are in _so_ much trouble," the younger man replied as he continued to laugh. "I think I like the change of pace." The comment was followed by a cry and another _thump_. Diana winced. Maybe he'd pull his punch this time…

* * *

Kendra Miller had started as a minimum wage stenographer in the Wayne Enterprises secretarial pool. A single mother, she had dropped out of high school when her little princess, Eleanor – or "Ellie," as they called her – was born, just shy of graduation. With support from her mother, Kendra had managed to attend classes to gain her GED and move forward to Gotham Tech. It wasn't a fancy school, and it certainly didn't have the reputation of Gotham State, but it did well enough for her. By the time she was twenty, she had a daughter, a GED, and secretarial certification but no job. That was when she found the tiny classified ad in the local paper, announcing an opening in the Wayne secretarial pool. She applied, interviewed, and was offered a position. At the time, the offer letter seemed to put forward a princely sum; the possibilities of advancement within Wayne Enterprises were also known well and offered some promise. She took the position without hesitation.

Looking back on it now Kendra knew the original offer had been a pittance. The benefits had been enough to compensate, however, and as the company grew under Bruce Wayne's leadership the spring and Christmas bonuses were more than generous. She and little Ellie had been able to buy a small but comfortable house in the suburbs, and bring her widowed mother to live with them.

Kendra had also seen, first-hand, the benefits of advancement within the company. Three years ago she had been plucked from the secretarial pool and tossed into the deep end: Bruce Wayne's executive assistant had lost her husband – and right in the middle of an important merger. The company sent its sympathies, of course, but it left a rather large gap to fill as Wayne traveled frequently between Gotham, Metropolis, and Washington, lining up all the necessary details. The office manager turned to Kendra. In a matter of days, Kendra had gone from a mid-level secretary, working for the various members of the Wayne Enterprises management, to executive assistant for the company owner. The raise was nice, too, she reflected with a slight smile.

Wayne himself had proven to be something of an enigma. He treated her well, making certain she was home for her daughter every evening and giving her time off as it was needed. Occasionally he'd even offer a warm smile and Kendra had developed a thankful affection for the man; he really did try to take care of his employees. Despite this, he still retained a gap between himself, his employees, and even his friends that went well beyond propriety.

Knowing about the loss of Dr. and Mrs. Wayne all those years ago, Kendra supposed she wasn't surprised. She knew it wasn't easy to lose a parent, and to lose both so violently at once couldn't have been easy for him. _Living on the hill all by himself can't be easy, either, _she thought. She frowned. Maybe it really _was_ lonely at the top.

"Busy morning, Kendra?"

The young woman blinked as recognition settled on her. She looked up from her monitor, face breaking into a smile. Wayne was grinning slightly, right hand stuffed into his pocket, briefcase in his left. "Not so much, Mister Wayne," she replied. "After last week, it should all be downhill from here."

"Good. I think after last week, we could use some quiet," he said. Pulling his right hand from his pocket, he glanced at his watch. "I'm expecting a delivery from WayneTech at a little after eight. Could you let me know as soon as it arrives?"

Kendra glanced at the small clock she kept by her phone. It was already ten minutes to eight. Turning back to him, she nodded. "Of course I will. Do you need anything else?"

Wayne shook his head. "Not at the moment. I'll have a few appointments to cancel later, but I won't know which ones until I make a few phone calls myself." He smiled. "I'll be in my office."

"Of course, sir." Kendra watched him disappear past her desk and through the dark mahogany frame that marked the entrance to his office. He switched on the light, then quietly closed the door. Glancing at her phone, she noticed a few seconds later that his line was already busy.

She furrowed her brows. While she would by no means call Bruce Wayne lazy, he _did_ tend to make his own hours; with all the fundraisers, parties, and other events he attended at night, Kendra reasoned that getting up in the morning must be difficult. As such, it was strange to see him in the office before nine, and even more unusual that he should arrive before eight. But a delivery arriving just after _eight_? _Personally_ signing for it? And already making phone calls? It was unheard of! What the devil was going on?

Shaking her head, she returned her attention to the correspondence open on her computer. By the time the courier arrived at five-after she had completed two letters for Wayne's signature. She found the visitor to be an older man, capped with graying hair, and dressed professionally in a suit. Not your typical courier, she thought. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the small silver case he carried. "Good morning," she said.

The courier returned the smile. "'Morning," he replied. "I have a delivery for Mister Wayne. Is he available?"

"He just came in." Kendra turned in her chair, picking up the phone. She keyed the intercom and waited for Wayne to respond. His line blinked, signifying a call on hold as he switched to the intercom. "Mister Wayne?"

"Yes?"

"The courier's arrived."

"Thank you, Kendra. I'll be right out."

"Yes, sir." She lowered the handset back to the cradle, and looked to the courier. "He'll be with you in just a moment."

Less than thirty seconds passed from the time she hung up to the time Bruce Wayne appeared before her desk. _Whatever he's delivering must be important,_ she mused. She watched as Wayne offered his usual smile to the courier, offering a hand to him. "Dr. Cochrane," he said as the man shook his hand. "Thanks for bringing this by so early."

The doctor returned the smile. "Not a bother, Mister Wayne. It gave me an excuse to stop and get an extra cup of coffee this morning." He offered Wayne the silver case. "I think you'll find everything in order. I've included an encrypted disk with all the information on it that you'll need."

"Again, I really appreciate this. I'm looking forward to helping with the test phase." Bruce took the case from Dr. Cochrane. He glanced at it, then looked back to the doctor. "And you're sure you want the reports sent anonymously?"

"Definitely." Cochrane smoothed over his tie. "It simply wouldn't do to have our scientists influenced by the president of the company." He grinned. "Or the Justice League, for that matter. They also requested to be in on the beta test."

Wayne nodded. "I authorized the shipment myself. If there's anything that WayneTech or Wayne Enterprises as a whole can do to help them, I'm a more than willing sponsor."

"Yes…I'm not certain what applications they'll be using them for, but I'm sure they'll put the equipment to the test. I've seen what they can do to a city block…" Dr. Cochrane shook his head with a rueful smile. "Well, I'd best be getting back to the lab. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, sir."

"Nonsense," Wayne said. He placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "You're the one that's been a great help to me. Your department has come up with some fantastic advances over the past years, and they've made Wayne Enterprises very profitable. I'm just glad I can help out this time. Thank you for asking me."

A few more kind words passed between the two, and then Wayne escorted the doctor to the elevator, leaving the silver case on Kendra's desk. She eyed it with curiosity. Dr. Harry Cochran was the chief of WayneTech's research and development department. Between that knowledge and the conversation she'd witnessed, she gathered that her boss was helping with the field tests for a new toy from the Tech boys – and a toy the Justice League was interested in at that. So what use would a playboy like Bruce Wayne have for it? She frowned. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"Kendra," Wayne said as he entered the anteroom, "please call and cancel my lunch appointment with Mike Kelley at SI, and clear my calendar for tomorrow and Wednesday. I'm going to be indisposed, and I'd like to reschedule for early next week."

She scribbled furiously on her small notepad. "Of course, Mister Wayne. Anything else?"

Picking up the case, Wayne moved toward his office, pausing in the doorframe. "Actually… Make sure you call the curator at the Gotham Museum and see if he's still interested in the Wayne Foundation sponsoring that 'Life in Roman Times' exhibit. I might have found him a consultant."

Kendra's brows shot up. The "Roman Times" exhibit had been passed on by the Foundation over three months ago, citing a lack of historical personnel necessary to assist in the research; she remembered typing up the letter. "A consultant?"

"An old family friend is in town," he said, "and she specializes in ancient history. I'm not sure she'd accept the position, but I thought I'd find out if there were still any interest in the project."

"Ah, I see." Her mind was whirling. _Old family friend?_ She? Kendra thought. _This could get interesting… _"I'll get what information I can, Mister Wayne, and make sure it gets forwarded to you at home."

"I'd appreciate that." Wayne offered a slight smile, then disappeared into the privacy of his office. Kendra could only stare after him, wondering what, exactly, was going on.

* * *

Superman stood on the observation deck, eyes directed at the monitor overhead, and folded his arms across his chest. A frown darkened his features. In the training room, Diana took on two of the droids, modified by J'onn to take the punishment the League metahumans could dish out. She fought with her usual Amazon intensity – passionate and effective, lashing out with sharp jabs, punches and kicks. Still, something was different, he thought, lips drawn taut. What was it?

Suddenly one of the droids lunged for her. She ducked as it did so, dropping into a low stance. She took the opportunity to hook her lower arm under the droid's torso, her other grabbing the droid by the bundle of cabling that served as its neck. Simultaneously, she pivoted on the balls of her feet, recentering her gravity, and hurled the droid through the air. Shifting her weight transferred more kinetic energy to the droid. When it collided violently with the other, sparks ignited and shrapnel flew, destroying them both.

Superman blinked at the blaze, burning brightly for the ten seconds it took for the fire control systems to extinguish it. Then it struck him exactly what was different: not once had her feet left the deck; she hadn't flown. Worse, he knew immediately whose fighting style she'd mimicked…and he wasn't sure he liked the idea.

He caught up to her next in the upper-level galley. Leant against the counter, he stood motionless as his eyes followed her into the room. She was freshly showered, hair still slightly damp. Over the rim of his coffee cup, he gave her a smile. She returned it, crossing to the refrigerator. "How was the fundraiser?"

"It was…enlightening," Diana answered. She gave a rueful smile as she twisted the cap from her bottle of water. "I understand now why Bruce hates them so much."

"Necessary for the image, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

An awkward silence settled between them, Clark unsure of how to proceed next. He cleared his throat. "That was quite a workout you gave the droids."

The princess laughed. "You were watching?" He nodded. "I should go apologize to J'onn and Atom in advance. They really were more of a challenge – "

"But not enough?"

She nodded, swallowing a gulp of water. "I think the programming still needs a little more work."

"I'll pass on the comments." Glancing down, he swirled the remains of his coffee. "Those were some nice moves."

"Just a few things Br – uh, Batman showed me. He thought it might be good if I learned to fight without flight."

Fight without flight? Superman wondered. He furrowed his own brow. Flight, for Diana, was as natural as breathing – even the Batman had to admit that. Why teach her to suppress something so essentially _Diana_?

Before the question could even form fully in his mind, a single answer rushed forward: Paranoia. It was the only plausible reason he could fathom. During the Thanagarian occupation, he and Diana had split off, making their way to Wayne Manor as civilians. The two had run into trouble on the way. The first thing Diana did was take to the air, effectively blowing their cover; Batman had chided her mercilessly for weeks following the incident. Were such a thing to happen again, Superman guessed Bruce was merely preparing her to fight her instincts: Amazonian strength she could moderate, flying was a little more obvious. Even he had to admit it wasn't a bad idea. Still, spending that much time with Wayne – he thought that was a bad idea.

"Look, Diana…" he began awkwardly. He paused. "Rumors around here have been pretty bad. You – you're not . . . thinking about getting _involved_ with Wayne, are you?"

Diana's blue eyes widened and a red flush swept across her cheeks. "Oh, Clark… please don't ask me that."

Clark felt his heart sink at her blush, gut curling as she avoided his eyes. He sighed. The dark, schizoid-type personality disorder with a side of billionaire playboy had captured the heart of the sometimes-naïve Amazon princess. Given his knowledge of Wayne's relationships, it was a relationship he feared destined Diana for heartbreak - much as it might have ended for Lois, had Wayne stayed in Metropolis. A rueful smile cracked his solemn features as he recalled the damage Diana had done to the training droids. No matter how strong she might be, Lois could never break a droid in two. He gave a snort. _Maybe the Bat has finally met his match, _he thought.

* * *

Bruce leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. He watched as Diana leant back against the computer opposite him. "The reason behind a successful identity is simple: People only see what they want to, and usually only what they expect."

"Like no one expecting mild-mannered Clark Kent is really Superman?"

"Exactly. Small adjustments to appearances can enhance the effects." He paused. When he spoke again, his voice emerged once again lighter, with emphasis differed on his syllables. "Or a simple change of inflection."

Arching a brow, Diana folded her arms across her chest. "Has any one ever told you you're scary when you do that?" His only response was a twinkle in dark eyes. She shook her head and sighed. Her gaze then drifted just beyond him, toward the folding tables Alfred had set up earlier. Furrowing her brows, she pushed off of the computer and crossed to the table. Quantities of necklaces, earrings, eyeglasses, makeup, and even wigs spread across five tables and the jewelry twinkled back at her in the dim cave lighting. Where to start, she wondered, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

The princess ran one hand through her hair…and stopped. The long, dark tresses were yet another Wonder Woman trademark, recognized immediately whether in or out of her armor. It was one feature she had not bothered to change - even when wearing civilian clothes. Thus, a change would be necessary, but what? She frowned at the wigs. Changing in and out of a wig, especially with so much hair, would be cumbersome; changing personas quickly would be near-impossible. Bruce's words echoed in her mind: _Small adjustments_. Pursing her lips, Diana reached first not for a wig, but instead for a clear plastic box of dark hairpins.

* * *

In the backseat of the dark sedan, Bruce studied Diana as she sat beside him. Marathon training sessions that tested even _his_ stamina had taught her to fight differently; a few suggestions from both himself and Alfred taught her to walk differently and; time spent with Dick offered her a dose of colloquial language. Trial runs of changing from civilian clothes to her armor were down to record time. Any smoother transition, he mused, would require forces beyond the human. He paused at the thought. Diana was, after all, a creature of myth - perhaps a chat with Zatanna later might be in order?

More striking but simple was her physical transformation. The long raven locks were pinned up, away from her face. The change drew attention away from her dark hair and redirected it toward her high, noble cheekbones and the cat-eye shaped frames that now subdued her bright blue eyes. Layers of slate blue polished silk and chiffon draped beautifully over her figure, the empire waist and décolletage accenting her hourglass shape. Combined with the slight behavioral changes, the transformation from Amazon princess was subtle, but complete.

Diana smoothed her hands over the layers of material covering her legs. "Nervous, Princess?" he asked.

When she lifted her hands to examine them for not the first time that evening, however, it became clear to Bruce that her attention was focused not on the designer dress, but on her wrists. Her brow was furrowed as she glanced up at him. "It just seems so…strange. That they should be there and yet…not." She nodded, indicating her bare wrists. The silver circlets so closely identified with her alter ego were there, he knew, but no longer visible. "You're certain these cloaking devices will work for the entire evening?"

"According to Dr. Cochrane, each device has its own power converter it simply reuses the energy it expends. They should be indefinitely operational." He placed a hand over hers and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. An army of mutant aliens, he thought, and she's fine; a society fundraiser and she's terrified. Inwardly, Bruce grimaced. Was this what she really wanted? To be dragged into all of this?

Aloud, he continued, "I'll be with you the entire evening. If you have any trouble, keep your wrap close, and signal me." He looked over her shoulder and noted the growing crowds as they drew closer to their destination. Exchanging glances with Alfred in the rearview, he then nodded imperceptibly.

"And I'll be waiting near by, miss, in the event of, ahem, _emergencies_." A kindly smile touched at the corners of the butler's eyes.

"Thanks, Alfred." Diana returned the smile. She drew in a deep breath as the sedan pulled to a halt. A rumble of voices could be heard, pierced periodically as the reporters scrambled to be heard above one another. This was immediately followed by a series of flashes as the photographers and camera crews jockeyed for position.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to be."

Looking once again to Alfred, Bruce nodded. The elder man then slipped out of the front seat and into the night. He reappeared a moment later, opening the passengers' side door. More bulbs blazed and exclamations of "Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne!" could be heard. Bruce swung his feet to the pavement, pushing himself out of the seat, then reached in, offering Diana his hand. She took it and was on her feet with the practiced grace of a warrior before he could blink. Flashes flared once again as she leant toward him, steadying herself with a hand against his chest. She blinked rapidly, attempting to adjust. "How do you manage it?" she asked.

"Just smile…and nod, Princess," he replied quietly with a smirk. He wrapped an arm possessively around her waist. "And let me do most of the talking."

"Gladly."

Diana found herself leaning greatly on Bruce as they made their way slowly down the red carpet. She struggled not to look as incredibly struck as she felt. In Gotham, Bruce was as famous as the many actors and actresses who resided only part-time in the large city; his appearance at a society function prompted much the same reaction. Thus, her limited exposure to the paparazzi in Paris had not prepared her for a night on the town with him: as his date, she was attracting just as much attention.

"Mister Wayne!"

So close, she thought, as Bruce paused beside her. He turned and indicated the familiar features of Summer Gleeson. The titian-haired reporter had made an appearance at the fundraiser earlier in the week and Diana, while not immediately taking to her, found her at least more tolerable than the other reporters in attendance. She nodded to the silent question Bruce asked with the simple arch of his brows. His arm still around her waist, they moved to the sidelines, where Summer and her cameraman stood behind the velvet rope. He was the one to open the dialogue.

"Good evening, Summer."

"Good evening, Mister Wayne," the reporter replied. She offered a smile. "Rumor has it you're not on the block tonight for the Children's Hospital charity auction. Any truth to the rumor?"

Bruce laughed. When he spoke, he adopted the lighter inflections and higher octave the voice he used when acting the playboy. "I'm afraid it's true, Summer. I've brought a date this year, and I thought it in poor taste to leave with someone else."

Gleeson's eyes were aglow. She had a scoop, and she knew it, Diana thought. But then, that was why Bruce stopped, wasn't it? To feed the gossip columns? "And who _did_ you bring tonight, Mister Wayne?"

"Joining me tonight is a very old family friend, Miss Diana Prince. She's recently arrived from abroad, and we've renewed our friendship." He turned to her, a wry grin twitching across his lips. "I must admit I'm glad to see her back."

A moment of panic swept over Diana. She recognized the grin as it crept across his lips possessive and seductive at once, a grin he usually reserved for the bedroom. How was she supposed to play this? As offended as she _should_ have been? Nervous? Shy? Her own lips curled in an answering smirk. Why bother with being offended, nervous, or shy? Two could play at this game. "I'm certainly glad to be back…and renewing old acquaintances," she said. Innuendo seeped into an otherwise innocent response. "You've made it rather easy."

"Glad I could help…"

She could hear the implied but unspoken "Princess" as he continued to taunt her. She turned her smile back to Summer. "Any chance you'll be making your return to Gotham permanent, Miss Prince?"

Diana passed a sidelong glance at Bruce. He watched her carefully, awaiting her response. As a few seconds ticked by, his chin dropped slightly and his eyes darkened with concern. She tugged gently on the arm she had hooked in his and drew him slightly closer. "Let's just say, Summer, that I'm taking things one step at a time."


End file.
